


The Curious Incident of the Yoga in the Afternoon

by china_shop



Category: Canadian Actor RPF, Fandom RPF, due South
Genre: Crack, Fic, Llamas, M/M, Mary Sue, Meta, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-05
Updated: 2006-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-13 04:05:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I pat you. "It's okay. It's the cruiseliner. We're Mary-Sues. We're going to be super-bendy and co-ordinated."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Curious Incident of the Yoga in the Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [woolly_socks](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=woolly_socks).



I've just read Strange Loops, and you're reading an anthology of DS Flashfiction, when I stretch and look out the window at the grizzly grey sky. "Let's go and do something," I say, wriggling my shoulders against the couch.

"Okay," you say, without looking up. "I'll just finish this one."

"Which is it?"

"Lynnmonster's Confessional. Shhh!"

I fidget for a moment, and then flip back through Strange Loops to find the first kissing scene and read that again.

You close your book with a thump, and I glance up, glance back down at the page, and reluctantly close the volume before I get caught up in the story all over again.

"What shall we do?" you ask.

I pull my jacket on and pass you yours, and lead the way into the corridor outside. "I dunno. We could check the Activities Board."

"There's an Activities Board?"

I grin lopsidedly, and lead you up to the A Deck, where there is, indeed, an Activities Board. The programme seems pretty thin, though, since lots of the items are weather dependent. "We could watch the televised golf championships," you murmur ironically.

I half-shrug. "At least Callum would be there." I run my finger down the listings. "There's a lecture on the History of Cricket in the Arctic."

"Guess who," you say.

"Heh. We could just go and perv. Do you think Ray will be there, too?"

"Not likely. He'll have come up with some excuse about having to take Dief for a run or something -- they're probably at the cafe eating donuts as we speak."

"We could go and eat donuts," I suggest, hopefully, but you shake your head. We move on from the official activities to the noticeboard area. There are ads for massage and flower-arranging lessons, a hairdresser and shufflepuck instruction. I make a mental note to keep Hugh away from the hairdresser.

My gaze lights on a square yellow ad. "Oh my god, they have line-dancing! Let's go to line-dancing! Come to line-dancing with me, pleeeease?" I blink big pleading eyes at you.

You look at me in horror. "You've got to be kidding. Look, here, let's go to yoga. Good exercise, no loss of self-respect."

"Until we realise we can't do any of the postures," I grumble, but yoga sounds good, actually, so I cheer up and go back to my cabin to find some stretchy exercise clothes. We meet by the starboard lifeboat and go down a flight of stairs, along a narrow corridor, and down a winding staircase to the gymnasium, where we snake between the cardio equipment and make our way to the studio at the back.

I stop suddenly in the doorway and you bump into me, then look over my shoulder. "Oh."

"I thought he'd be watching the golf," I hiss in your ear. "Is that really Callum?"

You tug me back through the doorway, and stare at me panicked. "It's him all right. Maybe he prefers playing to watching. I can't do yoga in front of Callum!"

"We can do it behind Callum," I say soothingly. "And, uh, admire him at the same time."

"There are mirrors!" you squeak. "He'll see us!"

I pat you. "It's okay. It's the cruiseliner. We're Mary-Sues. We're going to be super-bendy and co-ordinated."

You take a deep breath, clearly in two minds about whether to abandon the idea completely. I smile reassuringly. "It'll be fun!"

You tilt your head, trying to decide. "Did you see the instructor?" you say. "She looks nice."

"I was distracted," I say, and push you through the doorway before your resolve weakens. Or hardens. Whichever. "It'll be fine." We take mats from the stack in the corner, and line them up next to each other. There are three or four women I don't recognise, and Callum, looking thin and serious (he's wearing drawstring sweatpants and a worn grey t-shirt, and his hair is spiked as usual, and he's got his thick black geek glasses on), and us.

The instructor has bright red hair and bright red stretchy trousers, and I recognise her instantly. "Oh wow! I didn't know you were here!"

"Hi, there," she says, waving. She smiles at you, obviously noticing your nervousness. "I'm . This is a beginner class, so don't worry. I'm going to take it easy on you guys."

"I'm the guy," Callum jokes. "Are you gonna take it easy on the rest of them, too?"

Woolly grins at him and blushes a little. "Of course."

She shows us how to stretch out our hamstrings before we get started.

There's a bark from outside the room.

"No, you gotta stay here," says a familiar voice. "This is yoga for humans, not wolves."

Ray appears. Disconcertingly, he's wearing almost exactly the same clothes as Callum.

You nudge me. "Callum always likes to wear his own clothes on set, remember?"

"Yes," I murmur. "But are they the same person or what? Do you think they have the same DNA? Are they like twins?" You're distracted, though, barely sparing me a glance, so I follow your gaze.

Callum looks a little taken-aback. Woolly is busying herself helping the other women with their postures. It's obvious she's trying not to watch the two guys, and equally obvious she wants to.

Ray looks around, blinks when he sees us, and then notices Callum and stiffens. "Oh, it's you."

Callum nods, and eyes him. "What happens now?"

I jump when I realise he's talking to us, and shrug helplessly.

"Does the universe explode?" he asks. "I mean, aren't we matter and anti-matter?"

Woolly looks up at that, and says, "I think you'll find there's plenty of prana for everyone."

"More like matter and nearly-identical-except-not matter," you tell Callum. "I don't think either of you is anti."

I hope fervently that the llama doesn't turn up and make things weirder.

"Let's get started," says Woolly. She points Ray toward the mats, and starts to explain about yoga being the union of breath and movement.

We do some nice easy postures, and then she takes us through some sun salutes. It's soon apparent that I didn't have a clue what I was talking about when I claimed we had super Mary-Sue yoga powers. (You glower at me when you can't quite touch your toes.) It's equally apparent that Callum is more flexible than Ray. The third thing that's apparent is that Ray is trying to compete with Callum, and that Callum doesn't give a damn.

We do some lunges (during which Ray falls over because he keeps glancing over at Callum to see how he's doing, and I fall over because I'm thoroughly distracted by Ray), and then sit in a circle, and Woolly asks if we have any questions.

"Yeah," says Ray, standing up and pacing restlessly. "Who let _him_ on board?"

"I meant questions about yoga," explains Woolly, but Callum's already on his feet facing Ray and the air is electric.

"Hey, you _got_ the Mountie," says Callum. "What's your problem?"

Ray bristles even more. "Of course I got Fraser. Fraser and me are karmic. We're made for each other." He looks Callum up and down dismissively. "He only liked you in the first place because you reminded him of me."

Callum tilts his head back, and answers mockingly, "I'm more real than you are. That's why he liked me. You're just a little part of me that broke off and solidified. You could vanish away like midnight smoke at the drop of a fucking eyelash."

"Fuck you," says Ray. "You wanna piece of me? You want to come get this piece back? 'Cause I am good to go. And hell, even if I am fictional, I am way more than just some discarded fingernail clippings, Mr. Snooty Actor Asshole. A whole bunch of people created me--writers and wardrobe and everyone. They fucking _planned_ me. They made me cooler than you'll ever be."

Callum shrugs and throws him a small smile. "You'll always be fictional, though."

Woolly interrupts. "Um, hi? We're having a yoga class on a make-believe cruiseliner in the middle of the Tasman Sea. Aren't we _all_ fictional here?"

"Well, yeah," says Callum, stepping back and leaning against a wall. (He leans very well.) "Sure. But some of us are more fictional than others. Look at Fraser."

"And what about the llama?" you pipe up, trying to calm everyone down. "She doesn't even reference a real llama out in the real world."

But Ray's too busy being infuriated to listen. "Fuck you! Fraser's more real than you'll ever be. He's--if this stupid boat wasn't PG-13, I'd tell you exactly how real he is."

I'm reluctant to take sides, but I have to throw in my two cents' worth. "Actually, Ray has a point. You could argue that you and Hugh are the least real out of the entire passenger list, since the rest of us are based on externally verified knowledge, whereas you consist entirely of inference and supposition."

"And fantasy," Woolly adds.

"Fuck off," says Callum.

"In theory, Bob's realer than you," you tell Callum, "and he's a ghost." You're almost as pissed off as Ray that Callum's trying to cast doubt on Fraser's authenticity.

At the words, Callum starts to go fade, until we can see through him. Oh shit.

"Not that we don't believe in you, of course," I say hastily. "Don't dissolve! No, come on! Please?"

"We do believe in you," you admit, your anger fading, replaced with guilt.

"And we think you're hot," Woolly points out.

"Yeah." I nod fervently. "It's just that we don't really know you."

Woolly smiles brightly at Callum. "Perhaps if you let one of us, uh, get to know you?"

Callum stops fading, but he looks a trifle unnerved by the suggestion. "Uh, you know, I would, but Hugh wouldn't like it."

Suddenly I realise that out of all of us, I'm the realest (because I'm writing this, and I have the most real-life knowledge of myself, see), and I start to feel dizzy.

You notice, and turn to me, frowning. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know. I have vertigo. Can-- Can we talk about something f-frivolous for a m-moment? I'm just--"

You wave your hands in a complex motion and the world slips sideways, and then we're standing on the deck with Woolly and it's sunset again. The weather's cleared, and there are pink puffy clouds gathered on the horizon. The sea is sparkling silver and gold. There are seagulls hanging lazily in the air. It's beautiful.

I stare at you in amazement. "How'd you do that?"

You look confused. "I don't know. You haven't been reading Harry Potter on the sly, have you? You didn't turn me into a witch or something?"

"Or a newt?" I laugh. "No way!"

Woolly looks at me. "What's your problem? I _love_ the HP books!"

I shake my head. "I don't think Mergatrude meant the books."

"Oh." Woolly frowns for a moment, then grins and looks around. She nudges me. "Look."

As one, we turn to see Ray and Fraser leaning on the railing. The light of the sunset is colouring their faces, and the breeze is ruffling their hair. They look happy and relaxed, and Ray seems to have forgotten all about his run-in with Callum.

"Awww," you breathe.

"Yeah." I'm getting over my vertigo, fast.

Woolly's watching them transfixed. "Do you think we can get them to kiss or something?"

The words are barely out of her mouth when Ray says something we can't quite hear to Fraser, and Fraser smiles broadly, and leans in and presses his mouth to Ray's. Ray's arms slide around Fraser, pulling him close, and they kiss slowly, lazily, obviously enjoying each other. Fraser's hand slides into Ray's hair, and one of us moans. I honestly don't know who.

When I can tear my eyes away, I look at Woolly in admiration. "Wow, talk about witchcraft! That HP canon must be powerful stuff, huh?"

We grin at each other, and all turn back to admire the view.


End file.
